Chapter 23

Futile Gallantry on Cemetery Ridge

July 3, 1863: The Third Day at Gettysburg

Doug Niles

After two days of savage fighting, the Battle of Gettysburg had been fought to a virtual draw. Lee’s valiant Rebels had succeeded in dislodging the stubborn Yankees on the first day of the fight, but his attempt to drive in Meade’s left and right flanks on the second day had been repulsed after some of the most brutal fighting of the war. The Federals retained strong positions on Little Round Top and Culp’s Hill.

To hold these flank positions so well, Lee reasoned, Meade must have pulled much strength away from his center. It was there, the army commander resolved, that he would strike his great blow on the third day of the battle. He envisioned a success that would split the Army of the Potomac in two, sending the Federals reeling back in confusion, surrendering in droves, and leaving open the road to Washington, D.C., and the path to ultimate victory.

Once again, however, diversion of purpose and misunderstandings among the Confederate high commanders would render any chance of success a very long shot indeed. The trouble began very early in the day, when Ewell’s corps resumed the attack against the now thoroughly fortified position of Culp’s Hill. Almost immediately his men were met by a sturdy Yankee counterattack, supported by massed artillery on the high ground. Because of the rugged terrain in the rear of the Rebel position, the Confederates could not bring effective artillery to bear, and by 9:30 A.M. were soundly defeated with heavy losses. Not only had they failed to gain ground, but the Yankees had actually reclaimed some of the terrain they had lost the previous day.

To make matters worse—and to illustrate the disorganization in command and control—Ewell received a note at 10:00 A.M. from General Lee, instructing him to delay his attack for several hours until Longstreet could get his men positioned for the main effort of the day. That note, of course, was already overtaken by events.

As for the main thrust, it is hard to imagine an officer in command of an operation with less enthusiasm for the task, and lower hopes for its success, than James Longstreet on the morning of July 3. He began the day with renewed hope for his cherished plan of a defensive battle, and reported to Lee that his scouts reported no Federal troops south of Little Round Top. This meant, Longstreet pressed avidly, that there was still an opportunity for the Rebels to get around Meade’s left and take position on some strong ground, compelling the Yankees into the attack.

But Lee would have none of it. He restated his intention of attacking the Union center, Cemetery Ridge, with all of I Corps—some 15,000 men in total. According to Longstreet’s own memoirs, the corps commander replied: “General, I have been a soldier all my life, and should know, as well as anyone, what soldiers can do. It is my opinion that no 15,000 men ever arrayed for battle can take that position.” But Lee remained confident for, in his mind, the Army of Northern Virginia could accomplish any task he ordered it to do.

Longstreet countered with another objection. His corps had three divisions, Pickett’s—newly arrived on the scene—Hood’s, and McLaws’s. The latter two had been savaged on the fighting of July 2 and, furthermore, their position on the far right of the Rebel line would expose the whole army to an enemy flanking move if they were sent in to the attack. This argument swayed Lee, and he agreed that the two divisions should not attack but instead continue to secure the flank. To make up the strength, Lee decided that Heth’s division and half of Pender’s would instead join Pickett in the assault. There is no evidence that Lee consulted with either Heth, Pender, or A. P. Hill (their corps commander) in making this change. Surprising as it is, it seems that Lee didn’t realize that both of those two divisions had been as badly handled on July 1 as Longstreet’s pair were on July 2. They were very far from full strength, and had suffered particularly grievous losses of experienced field officers.

Longstreet continued to object, now claiming that the attack would be shredded by Union artillery. To counter this, Lee consulted a highly regarded artillery officer of his own staff, Colonel Long, who assured the army commander that the Rebel artillery would be able to silence the Union batteries enough to allow the assault. Finally, Longstreet ceased his arguments, though he made it clear that he wished Lee would put someone else in command of an attack he believed to be doomed. With Stonewall Jackson dead, however, there was no other officer Lee could entrust with such an operation, so the die was cast.

The plan was simple and straightforward. The ranks of infantry would wait just beyond the crest on the western side of Seminary Ridge, a little more than a mile from their objective and out of sight of the enemy. The Rebel artillery, under the overall command of Colonel Porter Alexander, would bombard the Federal positions on Cemetery Ridge long enough to knock many, perhaps even most, of the Union guns out of action. Then the Confederate infantry would charge in full line of battle, advancing through the shallow valley, crossing the Emmitsburg Road, and finally sweeping Meade’s army from its commanding high ground.

With the change in order of battle, more than half of the attacking troops came from Hill’s corps, though Longstreet would command the attack. It seems that these two proud commanders, who had a testy history with each other dating back to the Peninsula Campaign, did not discuss the dispositions of the men from Pender’s and Heth’s divisions. Each apparently thought that the other would take charge of specific tactical instructions. As a result, two undersized and inexperienced brigades—Brockenbrough’s and Davis’s originally, though the July 1 fighting had left them virtually bereft of experienced officers—fell in to form the far left of the Rebel attack.

Lee had a clear idea of how he wanted the attacking brigades organized in the attack, notably with an echelon formation (that is, a trailing unit slightly to one side of the preceding unit) to aid the advance of the flanking units. This intent, however, was never communicated to the brigadiers, many of whom were recently regimental officers promoted to replace casualties sustained earlier in the battle. The charge, in the event, would go in as one long line of battle, with a second long line in support.

Longstreet made one more attempt to dodge the bullet of responsibility for the attack. In a message to Porter Alexander as the artillerist was instructed to open fire, the I Corps commander asked the colonel of artillery to advise Pickett not to attack if it seemed as if the barrage had not done its work. Longstreet then dismounted, went to a shady patch of grass beneath a tree, and to all appearances took a short nap. His rest was interrupted by a note from Alexander, who declined the responsibility of deciding whether the attack should proceed. He further warned Longstreet that it would be too late to make the decision after the barrage, since the fire would use up virtually all of the remaining artillery ammunition.

This illustrated yet another breakdown in communication and understanding. Lee had earlier instructed that, following the barrage, the guns should be advanced in conjunction with the infantry, moving closer to the enemy during the attack and adding their fire to the assault waves. Yet clearly Alexander didn’t realize that this was part of the plan, and in fact when the assault began he had very few guns to throw in, due to the exhaustion of nearly all their available ammunition.

It was about 1:15 in the afternoon when Longstreet, who could find no further excuses for delay, finally authorized the bombardment to commence. Quickly the batteries opened fire, until some 150 guns roared across the Pennsylvania countryside. Quickly, too, did the Union batteries open up in equal numbers, blasting their response against the cannons arrayed along Seminary Ridge. For nearly two hours this artillery duel, the largest ever to occur upon the North American continent, raged. Yet while considerable damage was done to the guns of each side, the infantry—Rebels protected by Seminary Ridge, Yankees hunkered down behind stone walls and in shallow rifle pits—suffered little.

It was the Union gunnery chief, Henry Hunt, who came up with an idea to move things along. He suggested, and Meade agreed, that the Yankee batteries begin to withdraw behind the crest of the ridge, giving the impression that the enemy barrage was doing significantly more damage than it actually was. Whether or not the ruse worked, or the Confederates were simply running out of ammunition—which they were—Longstreet took note of the lull and at long last ordered the troops forward.

The attack is still known as Pickett’s Charge, of course, though General Pickett commanded but three of the eleven brigades making the attack. Yet he is as emblematic as anybody of the tragic glory embodied by this doomed attack. Dressing as a bit of a dandy, with his long, perfumed hair worn in ringlets, George Pickett had been a division commander for more than a year, but had been denied a chance to attain the glory that had rained down upon so many of his fellows. Now, his opportunity had come!

The Rebel brigades advanced in fine style, flags flying, drums pounding the cadence. They crossed the low crest of Seminary Ridge and started through the shallow valley, a broad expanse of open fields. They had to cross some three-quarters of a mile under fire, and tens of thousands of men in both armies were positioned to watch the spectacle—a sight none of them would ever forget. At first artillery shells ripped holes in the ranks of marching men, but the veteran troops closed the gaps with discipline and élan. As they drew nearer to Cemetery Ridge, the Federal guns—which had been wheeled forward again to confront the attack—blasted away with canisters, lethal sprays of metal balls like blasts from giant shotguns that tore even larger holes in the Rebel lines.

And finally, as the attacking brigades wavered, struggling to cross the rail fences that ran alongside the Emmitsburg Road, the Yankees opened up with musketry, thousands and thousands of rifles spewing lead, flame, and smoke from all along the crest of the ridge. Still the Rebels came on, though they wavered some more. Now the failure to attack in echelon became manifest, as the brigades on the left flank crowded together, struggled until the hail of fire, and finally broke and fell back. There was nothing their young and untried officers could do to stop them.

In the center, Pickett’s and Pender’s men closed ranks and continued to advance, their objective visible as a little copse of trees on the crest of the ridge. More and more men went down. A Union brigade on the right flank of the charge advanced, faced right, and began pouring a lethal enfilade fire into the lines of Rebels charging past their front. Only now, the lines weren’t so well distinguished, and the precise unit formation, marked by those proud battle flags, was all but lost. Still, in the face of a veritable hailstorm of fire, some Confederate officers and men continued to advance. The proud regimental flags clumped together in the center of the attack, their bearers somehow standing in the face of the lethal storm.

It was General Lewis Armistead, a brigade commander, who led a few hundred Rebels to what has long been remembered as the high tide of the Confederacy. Placing his hat on the tip of his sword—though the sword punctured the hat, which fell down to the officer’s handgrip—he raced the last dozen yards, crossing a stone wall with some brave Tennesseans and Virginians at his side. He placed his hand on a Yankee gun, and there he fell, mortally wounded.

The fury of the attack had been spent. Grudgingly, angrily, almost in disbelief, the hitherto undefeated soldiers of the Army of Northern Virginia fell back from an enemy position that their valor and numbers could not overcome. Barely half of the men who embarked on this futile attack survived to return to Seminary Ridge. There, Longstreet and Lee tried to rally them, and steadied the lines to prepare for the Union counterattack that all expected.

But the Yankees, too, were fought out. True, there were nearly 20,000 fresh reserves from V and VI corps—proof enough that even if more of Pickett’s Charge had crested the ridge, the Rebels would not have survived there long. But the three days of Gettysburg had left both armies drained, shocked, and stunned. The next day, the 4th of July, was a rainy, dreary day during which nothing much happened. Finally, on the 5th, Lee gathered his defeated army and put it on the road back to Virginia.

Meade, for his part, was content to watch him go.